A Tale Of Imagination
Once upon a time, in a hidden forest far, far away, its location lost to time, there was a Storyteller.
The wind whistled through the trees, haunting everyone with its Winter Song.
This first snow of the season was upon the small village of Imagination.
I’m not kidding. That was its actual name. Funny, right?
Anyway, where was I?
Oh, yes.
The first snow was upon the small village of Imagination. When Imagination gets snow, everyone huddles inside, keeping each other safe and warm for the temperature drops well below zero.
But this particular night, no one was inside their homes.
Instead, everyone was trudging through the deep snow to the home of Storyteller.
No one knew the Storyteller’s name or origin.
She had appeared one night, which happened to hold the first snow of the season, and never left again.
Her stories were cherished by all in the village of Imagination.
And, every year, on the night of the first snow of the season, she would create her own fairy tale or fantasy story that was loved by everyone and helped the younger children fall asleep.
Even the adults loved her fairy tales, and you must understand how rare that is.
Children and adults alike braved the cold Winter wind and hiked up to her little cottage that was perched precariously on the edge of a cliff that led to the raging Mystery Sea.
No one feared the cliff, however. Everyone cherished it. They said it was one of the reasons that Storyteller had decided to stay.
Perhaps it was, perhaps it wasn’t.
I am merely a book and can only tell you the thoughts of the center person who we have not yet gotten to.
So let me speed up.
The villagers all huddled around Storyteller’s fire.
The fire loved to dance out her stories.
It was an old legend that her fire was the EverFire. The fire that brought light to the Sun.
While this cannot be confirmed, let it be noted that the fire has never been seen out.
Storyteller even kept it going during the hottest of the Summer days, much to her guest’s displeasure.
But now, the villagers were grateful for the warmth.
They shared hot cocoa as they waited for Storyteller.
But she did not come.
“Where do you suppose she is?” one villager asked.
“I am here,” her voice answered.
The villagers jumped as Storyteller stepped out of the darkness.
She wore a beautiful blue gown with little gold flecks that represented the stars.
“I apologize for my tardiness. Now, shall we begin.”
She nimbly climbed up the evergreen tree that was inside her house (not a Christmas tree if you were wondering for the people of Imagination did not celebrate Christmas. They made up their own holiday) and took a seat on the lowest branch that hung over the fire.
Children stopped complaining about the cold, adults made themselves comfortable, and even the babies stopped crying.
Taking a deep breath, Storyteller began her new tale.
A tale of Winter and fairies.
A tale of love and joy, as well as sadness and grief.
A tale of Imagination.
TO BE CONTINUED…